Kiss Me, sequel to 'Blow Me' and 'Do Me'
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Dean didn’t think having sex with his brother could get any more gay. Apparently, he underestimated what a girl Sam can be. Sam wants to get back at Dean for last time, but his turn on top doesn’t go exactly as he’d planned.


A/N: Sequel to 'Blow Me' and 'Do Me'. You don't have to read those first to get this one, but it wouldn't hurt :)

Title: KISS ME

Rating: Adult

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Summary: Dean didn't think having sex with his brother could get any more gay. Apparently, he underestimated what a girl Sam can be. Sam wants to get back at Dean for last time, but his turn on top doesn't go exactly as he'd planned.

***

In the wake of Sam's one and only experience so far with anal sex, Sam made Dean suck his dick. A lot. Like, every other day or so, for almost a month. And he didn't return the favour, either. Didn't even offer him a hand job afterward, just tucked himself back in, and went about his business. The first few times, Dean didn't complain, just raised an eyebrow, and cocked his head, a silent gesture meaning 'yeah, alright, I guess I deserve that', and crawled into his own bed to take care of himself, or got dressed to interview a witness.

Eventually though, Dean started to bitch, and Sam didn't want to push his luck, so he relented with quick, perfunctory hand jobs that left Dean even more frustrated than nothing at all.

"Jesus Christ, Sam," Dean had complained, making a face while Sam wiped his come-covered hand off on Dean's bed sheet. He'd just come down Dean's throat, and honestly, half the fun in jerking Dean off, the half that didn't come from the rush of pride and power he got from being the one to give Dean what he needed, was making him wait a few more minutes before he could rinse his mouth out. "If you're gonna fuckin' phone it in, don't bother. I can do better myself."

Sam had just gotten up to wash his hands, and settled smugly down into his own, clean bed.

He hadn't gotten around to actually fucking Dean yet, but he was going to. Oh, he was going to. And he was going to make sure Dean did _not_ get off on it. Because his brother was a jerk, and hadn't exactly gone out of his way to make sure Sam had fun when he was on the bottom. He just wasn't in any particular hurry, because, well, because then it would be over, and he wouldn't really have any more excuses for one-sided, on demand blow jobs.

When Dean had fucked Sam it hadn't been good, by any stretch of the imagination, but he could see how it might have been, if Dean had given a rat's ass about his pleasure. It hurt like a motherfucker, but there were moments, especially towards the end, when he'd kind of gotten used to the intrusion, and the head of Dean's cock had hit that spot inside him that sort of made him tingle, but it hadn't been enough to get him hard after his erection had faded at the initial pain.

But under different circumstances it might be good. You know, if Sam was gay. And hot for his brother. Which he wasn't. Still, it wasn't like he wouldn't be willing to try again. After Dean had his turn on the bottom, of course, because there was no way in hell he was letting Dean get away with that shit.

So a few weeks worth of using Dean any way he liked, because he knew he could get away with it, then fuck him into the mattress – or the wall, or the hood of the Impala, or wherever they happened to be – and then everything would be back to normal between them. Or, as normal as it ever got for two brothers, who got each other off sometimes and weren't even into guys.

That was the plan.

The thing was, there were… complications.

***

The first time Sam tried to kiss his brother, it had been nothing but reflex. It wasn't like he meant to do it, or had even thought about it, but kissing was just something that Sam did, when he was intimate with someone. He'd had sex with Dean, actually had _sex_ with him, and they'd been trading blow jobs for over a year, hand jobs for longer, and they'd never kissed. Never even thought about it, because it wasn't like that between them. They were just brothers, honestly they were, and they didn't have warm fuzzy feelings about each other.

They loved each other, of course they did, just… not like that. Sam didn't think. So when it had almost happened, it was just as much a shock to him as it was to Dean.

They hadn't so much as looked at each other sideways for over three weeks, things sliding seamlessly into a period of being just brothers (without the benefits) after Sam's demanding head every other day or so had gotten old. But one night, Sam had almost, but not quite, hooked up with a pretty woman who worked nights at the hospital their latest hunt had bought them to, and when he and Dean got back to their motel, they fell back into it.

Sam had Dean pinned to the wall, their pants open and their cocks out, jerking the other furiously, to a swift and barely satisfying climax.

Dean had thankfully remained uncharacteristically silent throughout, which was probably why Sam forgot himself, and just as his orgasm started to overtake him, leaned forward and down, lips intent on Dean's.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean had panted, easily turning his head to the side so Sam missed his target, and bucked his hips forward. It wasn't until Sam's lips slid ineffectually over Dean's jaw bone, that he even realised what he had been about to do, and he was thankful that Dean didn't make a big deal out of it, just gripped him tighter, pumped faster, and smirked when they came all over each other.

"I know I'm good," Dean said, gasping as he came down from his orgasm, and smirking. "But you really didn't have to blow it with that chick on purpose. I'd still have been here tomorrow."

"Maybe so," Sam had answered, grinning a little himself. "But since _you_ couldn't manage to score, I didn't want to hurt your delicate feelings by rubbing it your face how much more awesome I am."

"You wish," Dean said on a snort, and gave Sam's cock one last squeeze, before he pushed his brother away, and pulled a face. "Get off me, fag. And I get first shower."

***

The second time Sam tried to kiss his brother, it was just as accidental, but slightly more disturbing.

It was two weeks after the first time, and under similar circumstances. A hard hunt had led them to a bar, where Dean had managed to make nice with some skank in under ten minutes. Sam hadn't found anyone that he though was worth the effort, and since he knew Dean wasn't any kind of effort at all, he took the easy route, and went for the epic brotherly cock-block.

"Hey Dean," he said, making every effort to give his voice as much volume as was acceptable, without earning him strange looks in the mostly quiet bar. "Don't forget, the doctor says that you need to abstain until those pills can kick in."

The girl that had been hanging all over Dean had screwed up her face and walked away, and Dean had looked at Sam like he had no idea what he was talking about. And then he managed to clue in, and his look turned murderous.

"What the _fuck_?!"

Sam just grinned, snidely, and walked away, not even looking behind him to see if Dean was following.

When Dean unlocked the car, and they both got in, he didn't give Sam much time before he had his pants open, and grabbed Sam's hand, placing in his lap. He gave Sam's hand an encouraging squeeze, and bucked up into the touch.

"Blow me, bitch," Dean ordered, and Sam baulked, snorted, and made to pull his hand back, only to have Dean squeeze it harder. "Oh no. You did that on fucking purpose, Sammy. You _owe_ me."

"I'm not fucking…" Sam protested, even as Dean's hand on his shoulder forced him down. Dean chuckled as Sam took him out, and licked hesitantly over the head of his cock. "Not gonna…" he muttered, but he knew he wasn't fooling anybody. He'd made Dean wait long enough, and he'd kind of pushed it a little too far tonight. He sighed in resignation as his mouth descended over Dean's dick, lips closing and throat swallowing around the shaft.

It was quick.

It always was, which Sam was thankful for. He hated doing this, and Dean knew it, so he always tried to go as easy on him as possible.

When it was over, Sam sat up and Dean winked at him, stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a package of Lifesavers, popped one off the end of the roll and offered it to Sam. Sam grinned, and took it, popped it in his mouth and unthinkingly leaned forward.

Dean jerked back and Sam's attempt was met with a slight clearing of Dean's throat, as he casually turned the key in the ignition, starting up the car. "I'll uh…" Dean said, and backed out of the parking space, heading the car toward their motel. "I'll get you back when we get to the room."

Sam nodded and sat back in his own seat, frowning. He should have been glad Dean pulled away. Should have been relieved that it hadn't ended in an embarrassing locking of lips that would have had them stuttering and shifty-eyed. Because he honestly hadn't meant to do it. Again.

He wasn't though. Relieved. He felt… disappointed, in an odd sort of way. Because fuck, what was the big deal? They'd _fucked_. And they couldn't kiss? Sure, Dean would say kissing was gay, but hell _he_ was the one that wanted the sex in the first place! Surely that was gayer than kissing.

Sam swallowed down the bizarre feeling of rejection and by the time he was painting the inside of their room door with come, while Dean jerked him off from behind, he'd forgotten about it entirely.

***

The third time, there was intent. It was pre-meditated, calculated, with Sam lying flat on top of his brother, both of them naked from the waist down and rutting against each other on Sam's bed, to mutual orgasm.

Again, Dean easily evaded his move, head tilted up and to the side so Sam's kiss landed on Dean's neck, but this time Sam actually acknowledged it. In as much as an irritated huff of breath, followed by him pushing up off Dean and going for a shower, slamming the bathroom door behind him, could be considered acknowledgement.

It wasn't that Sam _wanted_ to kiss Dean. Exactly. It was more that he _couldn't_, and that pissed him off. It was kind of a kick in the face, and blow to his ego, because there were tonnes of people out there who would be (and in fact were, when Sam was feeling up for it) happy to kiss him. That Dean wasn't one of those people was… insulting. It was a challenge.

***

The fourth time, Dean called him on it.

"Dude," Dean said, the word dripping from his lips like it tasted bad. "Fuck off man. No way."

It had been a couple of weeks since they'd done this, and they hadn't even gotten to the good part yet. Sam had just sat down on the couch next to Dean, hand on his thigh just above his knee, and working its way up. He leaned in, mouth going for Dean's, at the same time as he made to unfasten Dean's pants, and slip his fingers in.

Dean pulled back, turned his head, but Sam followed, relentless, until Dean pushed at him, snarled, and shifted over, putting a good foot's worth of space between them.

"Oh, come on, Dean," Sam said, twisting up his face. "We've had out dicks in each other's mouths. I let you fuck me. And you can't even kiss me? What the hell?"

"Dude, are you still stuck on that?" Dean asked, shaking his head, like he'd figured maybe Sam had gotten over it by now. Like getting fucked hard and dry by your big brother was something you could get over with a few rounds of head. "Can't you just stick your dick in my ass, and we'll call it even?"

Sam's jaw dropped, and he blinked. Twice. "Seriously? That's okay, but kissing isn't?"

"Kissing is gay, dude."

"Dean," Sam said, very slowly, like he was explaining something to a four year old. Not that he'd ever be talking to a four year old about any kind of sex at all, let alone incestuous gay sex, but sometimes he needed to dumb things down when he talked with Dean. "Having gay sex is gay."

Not that they were. Gay. Sam snapped his mouth shut and frowned. In retrospect, that probably wasn't the best argument to use.

Dean pulled a face and pushed back on the couch, so that he was resting against the back, seating fully on the cushion, instead of perched on the edge. "Man, that's just…" he said, gesturing back and forth between them carelessly. "Getting off. It's not…"

Sam raised a sceptical eyebrow when Dean trailed off, and Dean scowled.

"Fine," Sam said, standing up and stripping out of his t-shirt. "Take your clothes off, and let's have some totally un-gay sex. With two cocks." Because yeah. As gay as they _weren't_, even Sam wasn't practiced enough in the art of denial to think that what they were doing together wasn't at least a _little_ gay.

"You sweet talker you," Dean grinned, and winked, then stood up as well, shedding his jeans and underwear quickly, and letting them fall carelessly at his feet. Then he looked at Sam's chest and wrinkled his nose, like it was offensive somehow. "And dude, put your shirt back on. You don't have to be naked for this, and I think that might be a little more guy-skin than I can handle without retching."

Sam stared at him and pointedly did _not_ put his shirt back on, as his hands went to his pants, and he finished stripping. "Deal with it, Dean," he said, snorting. God, if his self-preservation instinct wasn't so well-honed, he'd accuse Dean of protesting a little _too_ much.

"Get on your bed," Sam ordered. "Since you're clearly so okay with it, let's try this shit with _you_ on the bottom." He'd kind of hoped to have to talk Dean into it, looked forward to his grudging acquiescence, but if Dean was going to play it cool, pretend he didn't mind, Sam could work with that. He'd just have to fuck him extra hard.

Dean smirked. "I gotta take a piss first," he said, and Sam rolled his eyes, nodded. "And we're doing this on _your_ bed, asshole. I don't want to have to deal with a wet spot," Dean told him, before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

Sam watched Dean walk away, and went to lie down on Dean's bed, ignoring his comment, and absently stroked himself to hardness as he waited for his brother to get out of the bathroom.

Dean finally come out, not even two minutes later, though it was long enough to have Sam on edge, and raised an eyebrow at Sam, before passing right by him, and plopping down on Sam's bed. He was hard already, which was… weird. Sam hadn't even touched him yet, and he hadn't expected his brother to be exactly eager for this.

"No way," Dean said, shaking his head as he stretched out. "I told you, I'm not sleeping on any wet spot. If you want to do this, we're doin' it on _your_ bed."

"Fine," Sam ground out, and pushed off Dean's bed, following Dean to his own. "Roll over," he said, smacking Dean on the hip, and positioning himself between Dean's legs, as his older brother obliged. "Ass in the air."

Sam heard a distinctly amused snort come from Dean, and he tried his best not to grind his teeth to dust. Who the fuck was Dean to be amused by this? This was Sam's show, and Dean was supposed to just take it.

Dean propped himself up though, without any further encouragement, elbows bracing his weight as he canted his hips back to give Sam an easy view of his hole. Sam froze, sucked in a breath, clenched his teeth. It was fucking infuriating. And a little hot. Sam's cock twitched, and a small drop of pre-come leaked from the tip.

"Seriously?" he asked, grabbing the base of his cock and angling himself so the head was lined up against Dean's ass. "That easy? You're such a slut, Dean."

"Aww, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam heard him smile, wanted to hit him, not for the first time that night. "Worried you aren't the first? That's cute, dude. Really. But I swear, it ain't somethin' you gotta concern yourself with."

Sam frowned, and couldn't help but notice that that wasn't exactly a denial. There was an undeniable part of him that desperately hoped it was the case that Dean hadn't ever had sex with a guy before Sam, but the nagging suspicion that that wasn't true egged Sam on, and as soon as he was properly lined up, he pushed inside his brother, swift and unapologetic. Buried himself inside, in one quick stroke.

The pain would serve him fucking right for… Sam didn't even know. So what if Dean had fucked other guys? It wasn't like it was any of Sam's business. Didn't stop the fact that idea grated.

"Fuck!" Dean cursed, and tensed, bowed his head, even though the first slide inside was a whole lot easier than Sam had been expecting. It was also… squishier. Much more slick and smooth than anyone's asshole had any right to be.

"You fucking…" Sam gasped, and drew almost all the way out, snapped his hips forward and pushed back in again. "_Prepped_?!"

Dean snickered and turned his head back to look at Sam, winced at another sharp jab of Sam's hips. "Dude. Like I was…" he broke off on a gasp, and Sam felt Dean forcibly relax around and under him, angle his hips to make the penetration easier and shift slightly back onto Sam's cock, taking it in easier still. He was better at this than Sam had been, and something about that bothered him. "Gonna let you anywhere near my ass without loosening up, and squiring some lube in there. I know you too well for that, little brother."

"You've done this before!" Sam accused, and his hips stilled as his fingers dug painfully into Dean's hips, fingernails leaving tiny little crescent-shaped grooves in his skin.

"What?!" Dean baulked, breathed out heavily and closed his eyes, moved his own hips back and forth a few times, slowly. "Don't be fuckin' retarded. 'Course I haven't."

"But you're… good at it." And he was. The way Dean was moving felt _good_. Obviously designed to make it easier on Dean, but it had the side effect, planned or not, of making Sam feel amazing. It pissed Sam off, because not only was this supposed to be not good for Dean, but it made Sam feel inferior. When Dean had been fucking _him_, he'd kind of just… put up with it, stayed still until it was over, and he sure as hell hadn't helped Dean out at all.

Dean cocked his head, smirked, and fuck but the bastard could even pull off looking smug while Sam was fucking him from behind on a cheap, polyester bedspread. Sam had no idea how the fuck he did it. "Thanks," he said cockily. "Natural talent."

Sam shook his head, and ignored Dean for several long minutes. Just gripped his hips tight, squeezed his eyes, and thrust forward and back, in and out of Dean. Dean didn't feel _too_ relaxed as Sam worked, brought himself, and apparently Dean, closer to orgasm, but he was loose enough. Enough to make Sam wonder, to make him bite his lips as one of his hands skidded forward and around, past Dean's hip and into the thatch of coarse hair at his pelvis.

An inch, not even, further, and then Sam froze. Hand stiff, and tight, his body immobile behind Dean.

Maybe Dean hadn't done this before, not with another man anyway, but this clearly wasn't the first time he'd had something up his ass. Sam wasn't being careful, wasn't holding back at all, and while he knew Dean must be hurting, he wasn't nearly as much of a pussy about as Sam had been.

And by 'pussy', of course he meant 'manly man, with a totally virgin asshole'. Like it should be. Like it _was_, before Dean got a hold of him, anyway.

"You're…" Sam started, blinked and shook his head, his fingers brushing along the shaft of Dean's cock. "You're _hard_." It was an accusation, coming out almost on a whine, because Dean wasn't supposed to be hard. Sam wasn't, when he was the one getting fucked, and it wasn't fair that Dean was, now.

Man, this _sucked_!

Dean's hips twisted, rotated in almost a full circle, and pressed back against Sam, his ass cheeks pressing flush against Sam's hip bones. He let out a moan, something that sounded a little too close to pleasure, but enough on the side of discomfort to keep Sam happy.

"Uh… yeah," Dean told him, voice taking on a false bravado, shaky even though he tried to hide it, and talking to Sam like he was slow. "It feels good."

Sam knew Dean well. Well enough to know that Dean wasn't telling the whole truth. There was some serious tension in his brother's frame, some apprehension as he twisted under Sam's hold, as his muscles tightened and went soft under his hands, and then Dean let out a low whistle, and wriggled, and pushed back, tight, and then forward.

He also knew Dean well enough to know that he was being at least _partly_ honest. It _did_ feel good. Sam gripped Dean's hips tight, held him in place easily and slid out, slowly, so that just the tip of his cock was still inside, and then slammed forward, hard. As hard as he could, and when Dean tensed, hissed in a sharp breath and his arms shook as they worked to hold him upright, Sam smiled.

"Okay, that feels _less_ good," Dean ground out, but he didn't try to pull away, just bent over even further, rested his cheek on one of his hands, and opened himself up more, made the gliding in and out of Sam's cock even easier. A few more deep, hard thrusts, a few more matching winces on Dean's face, his eyes closed and crinkling around the corners, lip curled slightly, reminding Sam that he wanted to kiss it off, close his mouth over Dean's almost more than he wanted to fuck him, and Sam slid his hand down again.

Over the sharp bone of Dean's hip and around, and motherfucking son of a bitch, Dean was _still_ fucking hard!

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Sam snapped, on hard thrust in.

"What?"

"You're enjoying this?" He phrased it like a question, but it really wasn't one.

Dean chuckled, and the hand was that wasn't supporting his face went to his cock, started stroking. Probably to make sure he stayed hard through the pain. "Well, it's not on my top ten list, but I've experienced worse things. It's your turn, dude," he said, and tried to shrug, his words almost careless. "Might as well at least try to get off on it, you know?"

"Fine. You like taking it up the ass so much, you can be on the bottom every time we do this." Because this was just not going his way. Dean was supposed to hate this. Dean was supposed to wilt, and bury his face in the pillow, and bitch for Sam to get it the fuck over with. And Sam was supposed to use him to get off, and make fun of Dean for walking funny the next day.

He was _not_ supposed to make it look like it might be fun, fuel Sam's imagination, fan the flames of hesitant lust that sparked inside him when he thought about how once the pain had faded, the feeling of having Dean inside him was actually pretty okay, and bordering on good.

It wasn't like he wanted Dean to suffer, exactly. He didn't. He just… This was as much about revenge for Dean talking Sam into something he thought he hadn't wanted, and going out of his way to make it as unpleasant as possible.

"Oh, fuck that!" Dean said, and slammed his hips back against Sam, jerked himself faster. "We're takin' turns."

Sam huffed, because yeah. Dean was right. No way was Dean going to let Sam keep fucking him if he didn't get to fuck Sam back. But, this was Sam's turn, like Dean had said, so he continued to fuck his brother, hard, the warmth and tightness of Dean's ass around his cock, the soft slickness of the hole, pushing him closer and closer to the edge, starting to eclipse his need for revenge.

It obviously didn't bother Dean that much when Sam tried to make it bad. So, Sam figured he might as well try to make it good. _Really_ good.

Dean had started to relax under him. Actually relax, instead of just forcing himself too, and they'd been together enough times for Sam to know that Dean was getting close. Sam slowed down.

Gentled his thrusts, angled his hips to make sure he was catching Dean's prostate every so often (and he could tell when he did, because Dean would freeze, stop breathing for a split second, and groan low in his throat), and placed his hand over Dean's, forcing him to stop jerking himself.

Dean grunted in frustration, but Sam just smiled, and licked a stripe up the back of his neck, kept on fucking him. Slow and lazy, like they were lovers and it was Saturday morning. Dean shivered, and bucked his hips forward, tried to get more stimulation on his cock, and ducked his head, moving to get away from Sam's tongue, his lips.

Sam chuckled, and wrapped an arm around Dean's middle. This was more like it. Dean was on edge, wanting to come, and he was off his game, because this? This softness, this kind of touching? It wasn't something they did. It was something Dean went out of his way to avoid, and this, more than having his brother bent over on his hands and knees, was what gave Sam control over the situation.

His arm tightened and he sat back, pulling Dean with him easily. Sat back on his heels with Dean in his lap, Dean's legs bracketing his, and let his free hand run absently down Dean's thigh, tense with holding himself up so that he wasn't _actually_ sitting on Sam's cock.

Sam was impressed with what Dean had been able to take, but Sam wasn't exactly small, and that level of penetration might be a bit much. Next time, maybe, Sam thought, and the picture it painted in his mind had him shaking, as he thrust up into Dean, his hand squeezing around Dean's dick.

He caught himself quickly, and slowed down again, small movements, agonisingly slow, and started to move his hand over Dean's erection, thumb over the head, picking up the small dribble of slickness he found there and spreading it over the shaft, easing his stroking.

To Dean's credit, he lasted more than a minute, which was about a minute longer than Sam would have thought, before he wriggled his hips, sighed, and covered Sam's hand with his own. "Dude, come on," he said, irritated. "I gotta fucking come."

Sam smiled, and leaned in, putting his mouth over the side of Dean's neck in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

"Oh, gross man, get off me!" Dean complained, and jerked away.

"Dean," Sam said, and he sounded half way between amused and confused. "My cock is up your ass, and you think that me kissing your neck is gross?"

"I can't believe how fucking gay you are. Seriously."

Sam rolled his eyes, but backed off, for the moment, still moving inside Dean, hand working over Dean's dick lazily. "I'm enjoying myself, Dean," he told his brother. "I feel like taking my time. Getting what I can out of it."

Dean's jaw ticked, and he went a little limper on top of Sam. "God, I'm so gonna get you back for this," he mumbled. "You wanna know what I'm thinking about right now?"

"Not really," Sam said, because he didn't, really. Didn't much care what Dean was thinking about, as long as he was keeping Sam's dick warm.

"I'm thinking about how much more awesome this would be, if I had your mouth around my dick," Dean told him anyway. "Or your ass. Or, no. Better yet. Some hot chick. Long dark hair, nice rack, ass you could bounce a nickel off, and plump, pink lips…"

Sam tensed, and his fingers dug into Dean's thigh, and he was getting ready to yank Dean down on top of him, force himself all the way in, and watch as pain and discomfort shot across Dean's face, get off on it. Because Sam and Dean both fucked other people, sure, and they weren't a couple, of course not, but hearing Dean talk about some non-existent woman while he was actually fucking Sam, pissed him the hell off.

But then Dean tensed, arched his back and pressed his ass nice and snug against Sam's pelvis, and pushed Sam's hand out of the way. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumped, lightening fast with a soft keen from the back of his throat, and came. It was… it was a fucking thing of beauty, was what it was, but Sam hadn't planned it, and it made him want to hurt Dean more.

But he didn't, because that was obviously what Dean was expecting, when he fell forward, wiped his messy hand on Sam's pillow, and clenching his ass enticingly around Sam's dick.

"Dean…" Sam whined. Yes, whined, because it was a crappy pillow, but it was _his_ pillow, and it was the only one he had tonight. "You're an asshole."

Dean just smirked, and made sure to rub his dick along Sam's sheets, smearing the rest of his mess wherever he could. "Hurry up, dude," he said. "I'm done, and this isn't even a little bit fun anymore."

"Yeah, cause that was my motivation," Sam snickered. "Your fun. Jerk."

He pulled Dean back up, hand on Dean's chest pressing him tightly against Sam's front, and he pushed up a few more times, not in any hurry.

"Kiss me," he said, grinning wide at Dean's startled expression, as his eyes snapped wide open. It was playing dirty, and Sam knew it, but he was going to get what he wanted out of Dean, one way or another.

"What?!"

"Simple. You want it to be over, kiss me, Dean."

"Oh, come on. Sam…"

Sam ducked his head and closed his teeth lightly over Dean's earlobe, let his tongue drift out to tease over the soft flesh, and he felt Dean jerk and tense in his arms. He grinned against Dean's neck, and started moving faster, only a dozen or so strokes, and he was right on the edge.

Dean could tell, obviously, because he started moving himself against Sam then, intending to help him finish, as quickly as possible, but then Sam stopped, held Dean still over him, and gulped in a large breath, trying desperately not to come. It wasn't easy. Dean was fucking _good_.

One of his hands came up to cup Dean's chin, and he turned his brother's head, tilted his own and whispered across his lips. "Kiss me," he said, careful not to touch, not until Dean leaned in. "One little kiss, and I'll finish. It'll be done, and next time it'll be your turn."

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean asked, his head dropping back against Sam's shoulder. "We don't…"

"Don't what? Have a seriously troubling relationship, behind closed doors? I don't think a little kissing is going to make anything worse, Dean."

"It is for me!" Dean shouted, and sat up straight again, lifted his hips and lowered himself on Sam. Again. "Just fucking come already. You've got thirty seconds, and then I'm going for a shower. So make the most of 'em."

"Kiss me," Sam insisted.

"Fine," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Twenty-five seconds. Have fun finishing yourself off, dude."

Sam just pushed his hips forward easily and smiled. "Kiss me," he said again. "Or I won't ever let you fuck me again."

Dean pulled his head back and looked at Sam like he didn't quite believe him. "Well than I'm sure as hell not gonna let you fuck me anymore," he said, his voice a little uncertain.

Sam nodded, still smiling thinly. "I'm okay with that. I got by just fine on blow jobs and hand jobs so far. I can go back to that. Can you?"

A brief look of terror flashed across Dean's face at the prospect of never being able to fuck Sam again, and Sam barely resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air, and cry out in victory. The look was quickly replaced by anger, and then resignation, as Dean inched closer, tilting his head and brushing his nose against Sam's.

"I fucking hate you, you know that?" he asked. Sam's smile widened. "I mean it. You so owe me for this. Your ass is gonna be fucking _purple_ by the time I'm done with it."

"Well, that's up to you," Sam told him, not believing for a second that would ever _really_ hurt him. Not when they were like this, when trust was such a huge thing. "But this time, I'm driving. And I want you to…"

He didn't even get to finish his statement before Dean's mouth was pressed against his. It was hard. All teeth through pursed lips, but Sam took advantage of it the best way he could, palm flat and soft against Dean's chin, and eased his tongue inside his mouth, as gentle as Dean was harsh.

When Dean finally relented, opened his mouth to let Sam in, it only took seconds. An embarrassingly few number of them, and Sam was coming, intense, and deep inside Dean. He moaned, he couldn't help it, because damn, he'd thought Dean's mouth was nice, but his ass… yeah. This whole thing might not have been on Dean's top ten list, but it sure as fuck was on Sam's.

"Good boy," Sam teased, when Dean pulled back, and Dean snarled.

"You're sick, Sam. You know that. Right?" Dean let out a small laugh and shook his head, stood up much too easily for Sam's liking, and pulled a face as he switched his weight from one foot to the other.

"God, that feels gross," he said, features twisted in a mockery of concentration as he felt Sam's jizz move around inside him.

Sam didn't say 'get used to it', because that was a sure fire way to make sure this never happened again, but he did fall backward, head hanging over the foot of the bed, and smirked. "Trust me Dean. I'm well aware of how that feels."

Dean growled, and turned, headed toward the bathroom. "Purple," he mumbled. "I swear."

Sam watched Dean's ass clench as he walked, trying to keep the mess from leaking out until he was inside the shower. Dean didn't bother shutting the door behind him, but as soon as Sam heard the spray of the water, he got up and settled himself in Dean's bed, fluffing up his pillow, and tossing the covers over half his body. It wasn't cold, but he liked the pressure, the security.

Dean could either sleep on the messy bed, or sleep with Sam. Either way was good. A little snuggling might even fuck with Dean's head some more, and that was always fun.

END


End file.
